


3 Stages to Getting Nicholas Clark (Good For Each Other #2)

by jiminnienuggets



Series: Good For Each Other [2]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Angst, Drama, Drugs, Getting Together, Homophobia, M/M, also some fluff and cuteness, the f word
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 17:45:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminnienuggets/pseuds/jiminnienuggets
Summary: There are 3 stages to getting Nicholas Clark. Troy didn't realize his brief visit to LA would be such an adventure.--This is the prequel to my fic titled "5 Times They Were Caught and 1 Time They Weren't" detailing how Nick and Troy got together. You don't need to read that first in order to read this (although still read it because there will be a sequel in which that story is important hehe plus... I mean, cmon, please?).





	3 Stages to Getting Nicholas Clark (Good For Each Other #2)

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is guys, the first chapter of the promised prequel! I hope that you guys enjoy it and I really enjoyed writing this first chapter. It's going to be 3 chapters, so not very long (though should end up longer than 5+1 overall), but very important <3\. The format of 5 Times + 1 is incredibly different to the format of this one. While that was all in the pov of others (minus the last chapter), this one will be entirely in the pov of Troy and Nick, mostly Troy since this centers more around him while 5+1 centered more around Nick, and the sequel will definitely center on both. Please enjoy this! Don't expect updates as regularly as 5+1 since this is more work to write but I hope I can get it written and up in a timely manner!!

The sound of the clock ticking.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It kept repeating. The same sound over and over again, but time didn’t seem to move at all. Go figure, really. The one time he truly cared about how quickly time passed, and it wasn’t passing quickly.

There were still a good few hours let and Troy had already been up for quite awhile. He’d tended the live stock, checked the fences, even grabbed a gun from their stock and had shooting practice with Willy and Coop. It was pretty much the same as any other day, except it wasn’t any other day.

It was the day mike came back.

Mike Trimbol. 23. Childhood best friend, kinda. Troy hadn’t seen him since Easter, and that had only been for mere two days before he headed back to school in LA. They’d both been so busy that they hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk. Troy regretted it; he had missed Mike, at least as much as he could miss anyone. 

He hoped that Mike had missed him as well. They’d been friends for a good, long while so it would make sense. However, he knew that mike had missed lA, even for the two days that he was back home. 

When they had gotten the one chance to talk, it had lasted only a couple of minutes and had ended with mike saying how he couldn’t wait to get back to LA, back to his friends. 

Now didn’t Troy feel special at that? He was his friend too, hadn’t seen him since Christmas, but Mike didn’t seem to miss him even nearly as much. It had made Troy want to shoot something. But, he had told himself, that probably wasn’t really how Mike had felt about it. Troy knew that. Mike had missed him too. Of course he had.

Which was why, this time, Troy wouldn’t be too busy for Mike. this time, they would spend actual time together, more than just a few minutes. A lot of time together, in fact. Taking care of the ranch and the duties he held as the lead founder’s son were important, but spending time with Mike, talking about things that had happened and could possibly happen… that had to be more important to Troy, at least this time.

But there were still a good few hours left until mike arrived and Troy needed to busy himself forget about God or the Devil, his father wasn’t about to accept idle hands, not from him.

When Troy thought about it, he couldn’t really understand the appeal of a place like LA or San Diego. Sure, they were good on their runs for buying more tools or weapons, but, other than that, Troy much preferred the life on the ranch. Maybe it was because it was all he had ever known, but he enjoyed the life that was preparing for the apocalypse. 

It sounded morbid, preparing for the end of the world, getting things ready for doomsday, but the elder Otto, his father Jeremiah, had long since believed the end ties were coming. So, morbid though it may be, it was all that troy had ever really known. As such, he didn't really mind the morbidity of it all. In fact, sometimes, he even preferred the morbidity and macabre. 

And so he spent the day doing his job at taking care of the ranch, his home, like he had been raised to do so. It was an easy job, one that he was used to as he’d done it for so long, so the time passed quickly… once he had told himself to stop thinking of Mike and concentrate, at least. There would be time to think about him when he was actually there, in front of him.

He shook his head as he did a check of their stock. Troy needed to stop… apparently easier said than done.

Upon heading over to the horses to feed them (or maybe just pay them a visit as he tried to pass the time), he found Gretchen, Mike’s little sister, brushing one of them. Troy wasn’t exactly a people person, so he tried to leave right away, only for it to be too late; she had noticed him.

“Oh, hey Troy--” she smiled. It was the smile of a person who knew way too much. Troy didn’t really like a lot of people in general, his family and mike being the only real exceptions, but Gretchen was nice. At least, she never seemed to not want to be around him at all costs like some of the other ranch residents seemed to feel. Others, including many of the non-active militia they were building, tended to avoid him. It was almost as if they thought he wasn’t the sort of person to really befriend.

They did, however, follow him when it came time for ranch or militia duties. He was their a leader, their leader, after all.

“Gretchen,” he greeted back simply, offering her a small smile as he grabbed a brush to get the otherside of the horse. It would always pay off to be nice to Mike’s sister. “I thought this wasn’t your chore?” Normally she worked at the canteen. 

“We all help out, right? She grinned again and then gave a small shrug. “I don’t mind. I like the horses. They’re pleasant, good.” Troy couldn’t argue with that. He’d had issues with animals as a child. Maybe not really issues, per se… but he didn’t really have them anymore. For the most part.

He wouldn’t ever forget the look on Jack’s face, however, one of the times his brother had found a rabbit. It’d been horrified, wondering what sort of monster had done something to a helpless creature, before realizing that Troy had done it. 

“Are you ready for my brother finally coming home?” Troy glanced at the young girl, that smile like she knew more than he did on her face. And slightly annoying him for it.

“Isn’t he coming home because he’s hurt.” It wasn’t really a question, more of a pointed response, as if to ask her why he would be excited about her brother, his friend, being forced to leave school due to a broken leg in three places. 

“Yeah, well,” she let loose a laugh and Troy didn’t really like the look she was giving him. “Doesn’t mean that you can’t be happy he’s finally coming home--and hey, since his leg is broken, he won’t be able to run away again.”

Troy did actually laugh at that. It was true. He gently stroked the horse’s (for some reason named Butter) mane. Mike wouldn’t be able to run away again, at least not for a good while. It should give them time to talk about… things done and said in the past. Things they hadn’t talked about since last Christmas.

“You know,” Gretchen began just as Troy set down the brush to leave the girl to her work. “I always thought my brother was kind of lucky to have a friend like you.”

“Lucky?” It was really the first time he had heard something like that. It wasn’t necessarily that people didn’t like him--he could be rather charming when he wanted to be, but his personality could be difficult to deal with at times. He got that. 

“Yeah, lucky.” she repeated as if she didn’t understand why Troy wouldn’t get it right off the bat. “Mike has always been kind of… weak. He doesn’t really assert himself, ya know? And you’re like--the exact opposite. I think he kinda needs a person like that. Get him out of his comfort zone.”

Troy stayed quiet, not sure how to respond or what she was really getting at. Did she know/ had Mike told her? No, he wouldn’t. Troy knew Mike and Mike would never tell her, or anyone else, for that matter. So she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, know. She could always guess, however. 

“You’re too smart.” The words seemed to take her her by surprise, but she also seemed pleased, practically beaming. 

“Well, thank you--”

“It’s not really a compliment.” There was silence, but Gretchen just continued to smile before she finally gave another one-shouldered shrug, continuing her brushing of Butter. “People who are smart normally become targets. You should be careful with that.”

“Why? All I’m doing is observing how much I know you love my brother… and saying that I think you’d be good for him.”

Troy pursed his lips. He kind of hated this. Hated that she could read him this way. Troy hated being read. He kept his hands on his hips, lightly tapping his fingers against himself before giving a sharp nod. “I don’t--Mike is just a good friend.”

He didn’t. Not… love, anyway. That was something Troy wasn’t really sure that he was capable of. Love. He’d tried to love his mother--but she hadn’t wanted it.

At that thought he cleared his throat and looked around before nodding. “I need to get back. A few other things to do.” A lie. He’d done pretty much anything he could think of, but he was sure he’d find another job to keep him occupied for the time being. 

“If you say so.” Her voice was still cheerful and she gave him a little wave. He held up his hand and then walked out, heading back up towards his house.

Had Gretchen really guessed that? Had Mike not told her? She really was too smart for her own good, and Troy wasn’t sure how he felt about her using her smarts on him. This thing with Mike… he’d prefer nobody to know. Mike would prefer nobody to know.

Nobody could know. Least of all his father. 

And, speaking of Mike, as Troy headed back up towards the house, the gates opened and in drove a truck. Troy pauses where he walks, looking towards the car and letting out a breath when it parks. The person in the driver’s seat quickly goes around, opening the car door to help the other man out--Mike.

Mike was back. 

Quite a few people liked Mike. He was nice, quiet, popular… even if he was somewhat weak-willed (or so Troy thought he was), people still liked him. And there were a lot of people trying to greet him the moment he stepped out of the truck. So Troy hung back, watched, and waited. 

Mikey was on crutches, Troy figured because it would be less embarrassing than using a wheelchair. He really looked like a mess and Troy couldn’t help the slight worry he felt. Not only was his entire right leg covered in a cast from toe to thigh, he could also see the bruises highlighting the skin that was exposed. He was a mess. 

And he looked exhausted by the sheer amount of people coming up to him, probably telling him that they were glad he was alive and if he needed anything to please come to them and they’d be more than happy to help. Yeah, if he could waddle himself over to them on his crutches on the uneven ground, dirt, and rocks the ranch offered. 

Troy took pity on him, something he normally didn’t do and decided to give him a few moments to settle down, get himself to his family’s RV (although there was a compound on the ranch full of apartment like dorms in the midst of being built, and thus Mike’s family was staying in their RV through the days to help build) and away from the hoard of people who seemed to want to check in on him. Community is family, and all that, but Mike looked like he was about to explode from how many people were talking to him. He didn’t, Mike mostly kept his cool. He was too nice to ever say anything he’d deem mean anyway. 

Trying not to go see Mike right away was actually harder than it sounded however. Normally, he wouldn’t really care, but this was Mike. He didn’t want to give Mike a reason to not talk to him. So maybe once he was a bit more relaxed… but an hour was about all that Troy could handle before he was striding down the hill from the Otto house and towards the camp of RVs. He weaved his way through, stopping in front of the correct one. 

Giving himself a moment, he took a breath and then knocked. 

The door was answered quite quickly, Kathy giving him a smile when she saw him at the door. “Mike is just relaxing. Do you want to come in?” It was mostly silent on the inside, except for the sound of a television quietly going on in the back, so he nodded, stepping up into the RV. 

“How is Mike?” He glanced towards the back, where the door to the back bunks were closed and figured he must be in there, laying down.

“Well, he’s alive.” Kathy said quietly and with a sigh, wiping her hands on the apron she wore. He looked down at the food on the counter. She must’ve been cooking. “That’s really all we could ask God for, right? Our son is alive, and, mostly, unhurt. What’s a broken leg when it could’ve been a broken neck or back?” Troy stayed quiet and Kathy just nodded to herself. “He’ll need some therapy once his leg is healed up, the doctor said, but there’s no reason why he won’t get full use out of it. Though it will probably pain him at times--oh, why am I telling you all this? I should just let Mikey tell you.”

“I don’t mind--”

“You know,” she interrupted, and Troy got reminded of Gretchen and her knowing way too much about him and Mike. “I think Mikey will be glad to see you. You’ve always been best friends, you’ve always taken care of him.”

Troy almost wanted to smile, but he didn’t need another Trimbol saying things like Gretchen had said. “He’s just back there, laying down. Go on, say hi. I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes? I ran out of eggs anyway and didn’t realize--so I’ll go ask to borrow some. It’s really… nice seeing you, Troy. I’m sure Mike will be ecstatic.”

She smiled again and didn’t say another word, heading out of the RV, essentially leaving Troy alone. He took the opportunity to glance around, pictures hanging from the walls of the RV, sitting on counter and table tops.

He kind of wished his house would have more, but his parents were never one for pictures, except for the ones posted to the ranch’s website.

With a small, outwards breath, he headed towards the back, giving a light knock on the door before heading inside the bedroom with two bunks; one for Mike and one for Gretchen. “Mikey?” he called as he opened the door. He could see a slight movement of a person shifting beneath the blankets of the bottom bunk. “It’s Troy…”

His voice trailed off and there was silence. Troy almost thought that he was asleep until Mike rolled over, shifting his head upwards to look at Troy. He looked tired and like he hadn’t been sleeping well. Troy supposed he couldn’t help but to blame him; he was in a lot of pain, apparently.

“Hey…” Mike murmured with a small sigh before sitting up. Troy stood there. Not quite the greeting he had expected as Mike was barely looking at him. Though he guessed that he could understand. 

“You look pretty good for someone who turned their car into a piece of foil.” Maybe not the smartest thing to say given the circumstance, but Mike knew Troy. He knew Troy’s personality--this was it. 

“Did you want something?” Mike was almost avoiding looking directly at him and Troy could feel his heart drop as if it were one of those fair rides, but he pushed a smile onto his face and made the best. 

“To talk?” His friend almost acted as if he didn’t hear him, so he pressed on. “We can talk later if that works for you better.” It was a sarcastic request but Mike nodded in agreement. Troy wanted to laugh.

“It does. Okay, we can talk later.” Mike laid back down and Troy stared at him for a moment, catching his gaze when Mike looked at him as if wondering why he wasn’t gone yet. 

“After dinner. At eight? I’ll pick you up, I can drive you up to the house and we can talk there. Less crowded.” Mike looked as if he wanted to argue before he seemed to resign himself to having no choice and nodded. “Then eight o’clock. Be ready, Mikey.”

And Troy turned, letting out a breath as he exited the RV and back into the warm sun of the California spring. 

At eight o’clock, Troy headed back down to grab Mike, greeting Kathy, Vernon, and Gretchen as he did so, and by eight o’eight, the two of them were in Troy’s truck driving back up to the Otto house. Normally, Troy wouldn’t be so lazy as to drive that distance, but with Mike’s leg literally broken in three places, he also wasn’t cruel enough to make him walk with him. Beside, the faster they got to the house, the faster they could actually talk.

Neither of them said a word the very short drive, and once Troy was parked at the house, he got out an hurried around to help Mike in case he needed it. He reached forward, grabbing his arm but Mike shrugged it off without saying anything. 

A purse of his lips and Troy stepped back, figuring Mike felt even weaker than normal if he needed help getting out of a damn truck. But once they got to the uneven steps leading into the house and Mike was struggling, Troy pushed a little, telling Mike to let him help. Once again, Mike pushed him away, this time with a sound of annoyance and a small glare that got Troy surprised. Mike normally never looked at him that way. 

“I got it, Troy.” His words were stern, sounding totally not like the Mike he was used to. 

Troy clenched his jaw. “Then fucking get up here, Mikey.” He didn’t mean to be so harsh, but it came out, and he could see that Mike didn’t like the way he was being talked to by the way he also steeled his jaw and quickly made his way up the steps. 

He followed Troy into the empty house. His father was out somewhere, probably visiting with Russell, so it was just the two of them. Like Troy had wanted.

“Do you want something to drink?” Troy asked, his tone now much different from the harsh tone he’d had with Mike only a few moments before. There was a sigh and then shuffling as Mike sat down, only shaking his head in response to Troy’s question.

Troy ignored the answer however and disappeared into the kitchen, bringing back a cold glass of water and handing it to Mike, practically shoving it into his reluctant hands. 

Almost as soon as it were in his hand, Mike set it on the table and Troy stared at it, lowering himself down onto the couch, deciding to just ignore it… he didn’t know what was going on with Mike, but he wasn’t really liking it. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Troy told him, and he was being truthful. He was glad that Mike was okay. When he’d heard, he’d been worried, he’d also been glad when he heard Mike would have to come home to heal up, but he was glad he was okay.

“My leg is broken in three places… and I had to leave school, I’m not actually okay.” Mike said, not even looking at him and it took Troy aback before he forced out a chuckle. 

“But you could be worse--it’s a broken leg, Mikey. Not a broken back.” 

“And I’m back here--” he said it as if he’d prefer to be anywhere else in the world other than the ranch, and that… actually hurt. Troy loved this place. It was his home, he’d grown up here. Mike had spent much time here as well; he had thought he loved it just as much as him. “I had to leave school, all my friends, my girlfriend, and for what? For this?”

Girlfriend? Troy repeated that aloud without even realizing and Mike finally picked his head up to look Troy in the eyes. “Yes, girlfriend. Her name is Adrian and she’s studying to become a veterinarian and she’s kind and smart and not--”

“You have a girlfriend, Mikey…” Troy wanted to laugh because seriously? Was Mike really doing this? To him and to them? 

“Yes--” he seemed to square his jaw, sitting up straighter on the couch, almost as if resolving himself to something that Troy wasn’t aware of. “Yes, and I also know what you want to talk about, but there is really nothing to talk about Troy.”

“Like hell.” He said at once, firmly and he shifted him on the couch to better face Mike. “We have everything to talk about. A girlfriend? Since when? And what kind of name is Adrian--” the anger was pouring out in his words, vemenous and he could see Mike flinching as if Troy were striking him.

“She’s…” Mike seemed to hesitate and Troy waited. “Her family moved here from Mexico when she was two.”

Troy looked at him and then scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head. Just the idea--Mike was really dating someone? A girl? Hispanic at that? Everything that Troy wasn’t, in other words. “She’s brown… you’re dating one of them? Mike? Your dad--”

“My dad isn’t as big of a racist zealot as yours is, Troy!” he fired off and it was one of the first times Troy had ever heard him raise his voice towards him. “My dad will get over it and you need to too--I don’t know what you thought. That I’d come back and we’d be what… dating? Boyfriends?” Mike said the words as if they made him physically ill. “I barely even like you! I can’t stand the thought of being in the same room as you most days, Troy! I haven’t been able to since we were sixteen and you--dammit…” 

At the mention of the age, Troy knew what he was talking about, but easily moved passed it without so much as a flinch. “But Christmas--”

“I was drunk,” Mike said clearly, once again not looking up at him, but instead and practically anything else around the room that he could. “And you pressured me into it and I felt disgusting after.”

Troy wanted to hit something, to shake something--specifically Mike, but he held back, knowing this wouldn’t help. “You didn’t seem to be feeling pressured.”

“I’m not gay--” Mike said quickly before Troy could continue. Troy wanted to say that he wasn’t either, that he wasn’t sure what he was, and that it didn’t really matter because he felt how he felt and that’s what mattered but it was really too much right now. “I don’t care if you are, but I’m not. Just keep me out of it.”

“You’re lying to yourself.” Troy stated it as fact, because it was. Mike was most definitely lying to himself. He dug his hand into the back of the couch, moving himself closer. “You weren’t drunk. I definitely wasn’t drunk since I don’t drink. You did what you wanted and now you’re fucking scared, right, Mikey? At least have the balls to admit it.”

“I’m not--just accept it, Troy! I don’t like you. Not as that, not even as a friend. We’re not friends. I’ve been trying to make that obvious--you’re nothing, but horrible to me.” Troy wanted to ask how, but Mike seemed to be ahead of him. “You push me and yell at me and act like I’m an idiot and I don’t know how to do things or handle things. I don’t appreciate it and I don’t like it.”

Troy felt at a loss for words, but he didn’t want to show that so instead he leaned forward and pushed his lips against Mike, trying to get him to see what he saw, and feel what he felt. But hands pressed him away and there was a burning in Troy’s chest, more anger than sadness. 

“Stop!” Mike began pushing himself off the couch and Troy dug his fingers into the palm of his hand. It took everything not to just… hurt him. And he so easily could, if he really wanted to. “I’m going--okay? Just… stay away from me, unless you can accept the things that I said.”

Mike grabbed his crutches, leaning against them and headed towards the door. Troy didn’t make a move to help, didn’t make any offer to drive him back down. Mike wouldn’t have accepted it anyway, he knew that.

This wasn’t what he had expected--did Mike… really hate him that much? 

Troy needed to take a walk afterwards. This wasn’t what he had wanted nor expected, and he needed to cool down before he took one of those guns (one of the many guns he had stashed around the Otto house) and shot Mike. 

Well, he didn’t think he’d ever really do that, but that’s how angry was. He felt like he could and Troy didn’t really know what he was capable of. For all he knew of himself, he really might. It was best to not give himself the opportunity.

It was probably about an hour or so that he walked, alone, in the dark, trying to cool his anger down. For awhile, he stood by a fence, watching as some of the cattle continued to graze, even in the dark, and upon his thoughts being broken with laughter from one of the RVs off in the distance, he shook his head and started back towards the house. 

The house was mostly silent when he got back, and dark. For a moment, he thought his father wasn’t home yet, but then he heard that telltale noise of his father being drunk, for the first time in awhile actually. 

There was the curse, the sound of something breaking and Troy took a deep breath before heading in to make sure his father was okay. Troy always tried to be a good son. It was too bad his parents had never really seen him that way. 

“God dammit to hell…!” Jeremiah Otto cursed at the glass shattered on the floor, staring at it as if it was suddenly going to piece itself back together. Troy sighed and rushed over, dropping himself down onto the floor to pick the glass up before his father stepped on it and hurt himself. “Look at you--picking up after your old man… been a minute, huh?” 

Troy clenched his jaw and Jeremiah grumbled, dropping down into his seat. He glanced up, seeing Jeremiah appraise him for a moment and then shake his head in disappointment, but said nothing. Troy set the glass on the desk so that it was off the floor and then stood. “I’ll go grab some paper towels.” 

He left without another word and came back a minute later, dropping back down onto the floor to wipe up the booze; strong, just like his father had always preferred. He spotted the bottle, already half gone and he hadn’t seen it anywhere to begin with, meaning it was a new bottle. 

“You disappointed in me, son? Disappointed in your old man for drinking? I don’t want that from you--” his father sounded almost pissed, as if insulted by Troy’s silence, but Troy knew better than to say anything. There wasn’t really anything he could say when his father got like this, although it had been quite awhile.

“I’m not…” he closed his mouth. It’d be a lie, he didn’t feel like lying when he knew he’d be called out on it. “Let me just clean this up, dad.” He pursed his lips and grabbed the towel and broken glass to go through away. But before he could get to the door, he heard his father’s voice again.

“I saw you with that--with that Mike.” 

Troy could feel his blood run cold and stopped at the door, his head lowered, waiting for his father to say something else. He wasn’t disappointed. 

“So my son’s a faggot. Not all that surprised. You’ve always been kind of… different.” Jeremiah said the word as if it were the most disgusting word he’d said in his life. Different. It made Troy feel disgusting, certainly.

But he turned, trying to speak and feeling his words not want to come out. “I’m not--”

“So men kiss their male friends normally now, huh? Wasn’t like that before. No wonder kids today are so fucking weak.” Jeremiah shot back, obviously not buying into Troy’s weak deny. 

“I’m not.” He said more firmly this time, his anger coming out in his words as he turned back around, tossing the towel and glass back onto the ground. Troy normally would never talk to his father this way, but the sound of his voice aimed at him, it’d been a long time since he’d heard that and after everything with Mike, he didn’t want to listen to this. “I’m not--you didn’t see what you thought you saw, okay?”

“Are you calling me stupid now?” Jeremiah raised from his seat, stumbling a little and pressing the palm of his hand into his desk to keep himself steady. “I’m not stupid! And I’m also not blind! I’ve seen that way--seen the way for years you been looking at the Trimbol son… well he’s even weaker than you are! Didn’t take my son to be such a woman.”

“Don’t--” before he could get another word out, a glass shattered next to his head and he hissed as he felt a slice appear on his cheek, just under his left eye. Shaking, he pressed the tips of his fingers to the cut, pulling it back to see blood. It’d been incredibly close to his eye, any higher… 

“Just get the hell out! Your mother saw you for what you are and she couldn’t bare to look at you and I can’t either.” He seemed unconcerned that he’d almost taken out his son’s eye and instead busied himself by grabbing a third glass from the bar that was so rarely in use and poured himself some more, tossing it back down his throat quickly. 

Troy was unsure what to do. He closed his eyes and shook his head, the feeling of his blood boiling in his body mixed with the ache in his chest at the sound of the anger and disappointment in his father’s voice. Mike was one thing, but he had always hated disappointing his father. He was drunk and abusive, but he was his father.

His father seemed to have only one thing to say though, repeatedly. “Get out--just get the hell out.” 

There had only been one time that he had felt like this before, and that was the first time he’d been left in the basement, forgotten about.

\--

He had never thought that he would leave the ranch, but--as Troy looked up at the apartment building he knew his brother lived at--he supposed there was a first time for everything.

All around him were the sounds of cars and people walking. It was chaotic in a way that he wasn’t used to. It almost felt like a different world. Of course, he’d been to San Diego before, and he’d been to other places as a kid, but it had never been for long. It made him uncomfortable, unsure of how exactly he felt, but he parked his truck, somewhat dirtier than the surrounding cars, and climbed out.

He did have one pleasant thing to say however; nobody looked at him strangely for his taste in death metal blasting loud enough to make someone go deaf. 

Jingling his keys in his hand and grabbing his bag from the truck (packed full of mostly clothes, and also his most prized possession, his journal), Troy took in a breath and started towards the building and up to the floor his brother’s address, written in pen on his hand. His brother didn’t know he was coming, but he knew he was at home. He’d called to make sure… and he’d find out soon enough anyway.

Soon he was standing in front of the door, bag thrown over his shoulder and he knocked. There was a slight pause in which he heard nothing and then the sound of someone heading towards the door.

“Troy?” His brother’s shock almost made him grin. Oh how he did love surprising him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Jake.” He craned his neck to look around him and into the apartment. “I’m going to be staying with you for a few months… that’s okay, right?”


End file.
